


Echoes of Pasts Now Lost

by animatedrose



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Animalistic Behavior, Biting, Blood and Gore, Dehumanization, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Human Experimentation, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mental Regression, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Omegaverse, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Virus, Yaoi, bullshit genetic science stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-05-11 16:49:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5633953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animatedrose/pseuds/animatedrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alphas and Betas have been infected by a virus that regresses them to a feral, more wolfish state of mind. Omegas are left to care for the world and try to find a cure for the F virus. The scientific research structure Eden is where this research takes place on various captured packs of Alphas and Betas.</p><p>Jericho Greaves is a new graduate that is set to work on Pack 15 in Eden. His first job is to be placed face-to-face with Archer, the Alpha leader of Pack 15. A connection is formed and Jericho finds himself entangled in a web of scientific deceit and deadly romance. Archer may be his only method of finding answers, but how can it be done if Archer doesn't even know how to speak?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pack 15

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure if anyone’s ever done something like this before with Omegaverse. If not, sweet. I dropped in on something new and let’s hope I don’t kill it at the starting line. Lol
> 
> I am no genetics know-it-all. I’ve only taken a course and looked up some things myself. I’m basically bullshitting my way through the F virus explanation based on knowledge that I’ve learned in my genetics class and any other outside research I’ve done. Things will likely be very wrong somewhere in that explanation and I profusely apologize to any genetics buffs out there for butchering your craft. Please forgive this sorry soul.
> 
> Written with “Who are you really?” by Mikky Ekko as the main background music…because it fits so well. Enjoy.

_At one time, Alphas were in charge. They ruled the world. They controlled society with an iron fist. Betas cowered in fear and awe beneath them. Omegas hated and loved them._

_Oh, if only the past could look into the future and see what it eventually becomes._

.o.o.o.o.

“You’re cleared for entry.”

The Omega sighed in relief as the glass doors slid open. The guards let him through. The man was young, a recent graduate from the most esteemed college possible. And he was assigned to the most important structure in history, the pinnacle of science and research—Eden.

Eden was a large dome-like structure that housed scientists and researchers from all over the globe. They all came here with a single dedicated purpose, one all-fulfilling reason. That same reason drove this new Omega to overachieve just to be accepted. Setting foot inside of the front doors was a dream come true in itself.

“Uh, let’s see.” The Omega scanned the papers in his folder, reading off departments and wings. He scanned the large room around him, trying to stay out of bustling workers’ ways as he tried to figure out what to do next. A hand catching his elbow made him jolt, almost dropping everything had nimble hands not caught them in his place.

“Sorry to startle you. Come with me, please. It’ll be quieter and less busy upstairs,” another Omega offered, pulling the youngster along.

“Uh, I need to get to—”

“I already know. Your supervisor is waiting for you. I was told specifically to come find you, Mr. Greaves. Rest assured, I won’t let you get turned around in here, however easy it is to do.”

“Um, please call me Jericho,” the youngster requested.

“Ah, apologies. Here, this should do for a quick chat.”

They had gone up two flights of stairs and through several winding halls full of offices and labs. The noise had dampened significantly and the number of people loitering was nil. The place was empty besides them. Jericho’s rescuer withdrew his hold and smiled politely.

“Sorry for the sudden shift in location. Crowds annoy me. You’d best avoid the ground floor and basement levels if you want to get anywhere fast in here.”

Jericho looked over his rescuer. It was definitely another Omega, taller and leaner than him with a shock of reddish-brown hair and soft green eyes. His skin was a bit darker, possibly tanned. He wore a cornflower blue button-up shirt and brown pants under a white lab coat. The man gave off an air of good cheer and happy spirits.

“So, Jericho Greaves. Good to know I indeed grabbed the right man.”

“Um, who are you? You said you knew my advisor,” Jericho forced out.

“Oh, apologies again. I’m Walter Prescott. I’ll be one of your co-workers starting today. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Walter…” Jericho committed the name and face to memory. “Thank you for helping me. I’ll keep your advice in mind when I come in tomorrow.”

“Good,” Walter smiled openly. “Follow me. I’ll take you straight to Mr. Grant and we’ll jump right in. No time for tours or anything. We’re in the middle of a big breakthrough with our target population.”

“Target population? You mean one of the packs?” Jericho’s heart soared instantly at the thought.

“Yes,” Walter confirmed, taking off at a brisk walk that Jericho easily matched. “As I’m sure you were informed, our job here at Eden is monitoring and studying the behavior of select Alpha packs in the hopes of reversing the effects of the F virus.”

“I know! I focused my major on direct observational study with a minor in the history of the effects of the F virus on victims,” Jericho explained, unable to contain his excitement. “Did you know that the F virus initially acted much like rabies before it evolved into what it is now?”

“Yes, we all know this,” Walter chuckled in amusement. “But do you know why we Omegas aren’t affected by the F virus?”

“Uh…” Jericho faltered.

Walter smiled gently. “Don’t worry. Most can’t answer that. So far, we can only speculate why it doesn’t affect us to the same extent it does Alphas and Betas. So far, most theorize that the same genetics that made us have weaker immune systems combats the F virus. Think of it like sickle cell anemia. Those that have it no longer have to fear being infected with malaria. That theory is so far being proposed as why we haven’t been affected.”

“Not exactly. There have been cases,” Jericho interrupted.

“All of those were through direct contact and subsequent unattended infection. Victims were infected through injuries gained by an infected individual, went untreated, and developed the symptoms within 2-12 weeks,” Walter stated firmly. “There have been no known cases of an Omega being infected through any other method other than that.”

“Oh…” Jericho looked away. “Sorry…”

“It’s fine. You’ll adapt to the learning curve here. Just remember, you graduates only get half the story there,” Walter reassured, patting the younger man’s shoulder. “You get the rest of it when you start working here.”

They stopped at an elevator. Swiping a keycard, Walter guided Jericho inside and pressed the button for the top floor. The metal walls peeled away after several minutes to reveal glass, showing off Eden’s exterior and the surrounding woodland and buildings. Looking up, Jericho realized they were in the tower neighboring Eden. Just as they were reaching the top, metal engulfed the view again and only gave Jericho a view of his own reflection.

Messy blonde hair, suddenly unkempt due to the crowd on the ground floor, and tired blue eyes greeted him. His skin was a healthy color, freckles dotted his nose and cheeks in a faint and uneven spread, cheeks were rosy, lips were full (if just a bit chapped). He wore a spring green polo shirt and pressed white pants. All in all, not his most professional look but the notice had told him to “wear comfortable clothes that you’ve owned and worn for at least one year.”

He felt self-conscious suddenly. He usually wore a scarf to cover up the marks on his neck and left cheek. There were faint, only visible if you stared for long enough, but Jericho could see them and if he could see them then surely the rest of the world could too. Thin white lines, scars gained from childhood accidents that never really left him alone, accidents that he couldn’t even recall anymore.

He’d bring his scarf tomorrow. Surely nobody would mind. Yes, he’d plan on doing that. Just have to remember.

The elevator’s ding made him jump. Walter trotted out, arms behind his back as he called a greeting. Jericho followed him, suddenly on edge. The room around them was huge and ringed with large windows overseeing all of Eden. The room had only a large meeting table at its center and many comfortable-looking chairs. It was to the head of this table that they headed, toward the man seated there.

It was another Omega, shorter than Walter and just a few inches shy of Jericho’s height. He had neat black hair combed and styled back. His sharp blue eyes matched his flashy indigo suit. The man rose to shake Walter’s hand before reaching out for Jericho’s. The blonde shook it, noting the strong grip the other had.

“Jericho Greaves, huh? I’ve heard good things about you,” the man said, sitting back down. “Come, take a seat. I’ve got big news for you guys. You’ll love it!”

“Jericho, this is the head of Eden complex, Mr. Hubert Montgomery himself,” Walter explained.

“What? I thought…? The supervisor…?” Jericho looked from Walter to Hubert in confusion.

“Jonesy got caught up. Look, I’m gonna go fast from here so keep up. I just got word from your crew downstairs that they finally separated Archer from his pack. I need you guys to get down there and help with observation and check-up,” Hubert said.

“They got him? How? We’ve tried for months and he won’t take the bait,” Walter demanded.

“Wait! I’m lost,” Jericho piped up.

“Our unit is assigned to a medium-sized pack led by an Alpha named Archer. A primary job of ours is to perform check-ups on all pack members routinely. Archer has evaded any attempts to catch and tranquilize him for a check-up for the past six months,” Walter explained.

“Wait! Archer…is an Alpha?” Jericho asked.

“Infected by the F virus, as all the packs here in Eden are,” Hubert confirmed. “Now then, this is where the dicey bit happens. Walter, you’re doing what you do. Jericho, I’ve got a special job for you. I want you in the main room when Archer comes around.”

“You want him in there with him?” Walter shouted.

“You know the deal, Walter. All of you have checked out as negative. Besides, why not make a big splash on his first day?” Hubert pointed out.

“You plan to have him in the room next to Archer with only a pane of bulletproof glass standing between them,” Walter hissed.

“Wait, what?” Jericho asked, confused.

“He’s blonde. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Archer likes blondes,” Hubert shrugged. “Besides, think about it. Archer’s last confidant died last spring. If this is our break, why not stretch it to its fullest? If we get lucky—”

“And if we don’t? This is his first day, Hubert! You’re asking him to go on a suicide mission purely to see if there’s a chance of something very small happening!” Walter barked, surging to his feet with enough force that his chair slammed into the ground from toppling over.

Hubert slowly rose from his chair, teeth bared. Each word he spoke was firm, crisp, clear, and sharp as a knife. “Stand down, Walter. I’m in charge. Jonesy already approved of it. You’ve got no ground to stand against me on.”

“You’re going to get him killed,” Walter stressed desperately.

“Tranqs will be on standby in case Archer gets wound up,” Hubert said. “Trust me. Nothing bad will happen in there.”

A crackle of a radio killed the tension. “ARE WALTER AND JERICHO COMING DOWN HERE OR WHAT? CHECK-UP IS THROUGH, ARCHER IS IN THE OBSERVATION ROOM! OVER!”

“I suggest you move,” Hubert said, sitting back down and pulling out the radio. “They’re coming down right now. Sorry for the delay.”

“GOOD. ARCHER SHOULD BE WAKING UP WHEN THEY GET DOWN HERE. OVER.”

“Good job, Jonesy,” Hubert congratulated.

“THANK YOU, SIR.”

Hubert put the radio down and folded his hands. “Well? Go on. You have an Alpha to see.”

Walter growled before turning on his heel, stalking back toward the elevator. Jericho followed him, glancing back at Hubert a few times before they were in the elevator and going down. Walter crushed himself into the far corner, air hissing between bared teeth. Jericho kept close to the buttons in the opposite corner nearest to the doors. He practically flew out when they hit the ground floor.

Walter kept a lid on his temper, guiding Jericho through the crowd until they reached another set of elevators leading underground to the observation floors. Stepping out of the elevator, Jericho stared up at the plaque attached above them.

**Pack 15 Observation and Control Labs**

“Pack fifteen?”

“That’s the code for Archer’s pack. They’re all numbered,” Walter said, anger finally winding down. “Eden has thirty-two packs of various sizes currently within its walls. Each pack has a lab staff and crew assigned to observe and study them. No member goes unwatched.”

“So…Hubert wants me…in with Archer? Why?” Jericho asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Very,” Walter agreed, teeth grit. “Tranquilizers should be on standby. If Archer acts up and attacks the glass, you’ll be pulled out without question. Standard procedure for these events.”

“What events?” Jericho asked.

“Boys, boys! There you are! Hurry!”

An older Omega with neat brown hair tied back in a low ponytail approached them. He wore rectangular-framed glasses, a yellow plaid button-up shirt, a lab coat, pressed tan slacks, and dark brown loafers. There was a clipboard under one arm.

“You must be Jericho Greaves. I’m Jonesy Grant, the supervisor of this crew. Welcome to Eden.”

Jericho shook the man’s hand.

“Now that that’s settled, Walter! You’re needed in the data room. Jericho, come with me,” Jonesy requested.

Jericho yelped when Jonesy grabbed his hand, tugging him down the hall. The blonde looked back to see Walter give a sad wave before disappearing down another corridor. The duo soon reached a thick steel door. Above it was a glowing neon red sign.

**Containment**

“What am I doing?” Jericho asked.

Jonesy input a code into the keypad beside the door. “Just stand there and try to relax. The vents will carry your scent directly to him. Once he catches that, we’ll know whether or not you’re destined.”

“Destined?”

“There we are!” The door unlocked and Jonesy pulled it open. “This should only take a few minutes at most. Archer’s very fast. In you go.”

“Wait! Destined? What do you mean?” Jericho demanded.

“No time! Get in there before Archer gets ornery with that room!” Jonesy barked.

With a firm shove, Jericho was in the room. The heavy steel door closed behind him, locking. The blonde pawed at the door briefly before withdrawing, turning to look at the room behind him.

It was a narrow room with steel walls. All except for the wall to his left, made of bulletproof glass from top to bottom. In the room beyond it was a mirror image of his room but bigger. And occupied.

Curled on the floor near the back wall was a man. He was big, skin tanned and bearing various scars. He had black hair, partly slicked back but greasy strands broke the mold and stuck out in his face and behind his ears. It took Jericho a moment to realize that the man was naked. He lurched back, hands over his eyes and apologies pouring from his lips.

Then the man moved.

An arm lifted, uncovering his head and messy hair. Stormy gray eyes opened, scanning the room around him. He rolled onto his hands and knees, stretching. A yawn displayed deadly teeth, sharp canines and crushing molars. Licking his lips, the man slowly staggered to his feet, catching his balance on the wall. His nails were overgrown and sharp, cracked in places where they had broken on rough terrain.

Gray eyes met blue and the world seemed to freeze.

Jericho cowered, unable to move. The man—Archer, he assumed, it had to be Archer—sniffed. The larger man slowly approached the glass, nose twitching, sniffing.

 _He smells me,_ Jericho realized.

Archer was at the glass now, palms pressed to the smooth material. He crushed his nose against it, nostrils flaring. Jericho wanted to scream but he was frozen, paralyzed by this man’s gaze.

So this was the power of an Alpha, a race that once ruled over them all.

His chest was squeezed tight, heart struggling to beat. Jericho felt lightheaded and dizzy. He groaned, stumbling before catching himself on the glass in front of him. A low growl alerted him to Archer’s presence but the Omega had trouble focusing on it. His chest hurt too much. He felt too hot.

The growl turned into a whine. Nails scratched at the glass. Jericho looked up to see himself nearly nose-to-nose with Archer. The Alpha didn’t look angry. Quite the opposite, actually.

He looked concerned. Scared, even. A smidge relieved?

Jericho’s chest squeezed again and he gasped, sliding down the wall before pitching back onto the floor. There was noise, too much noise. Archer snarled, howling before flinging himself at the glass. Voices were shouting, screaming even. Guns were going off but Archer kept attacking, managing to crack the glass with his shoulder.

“Get him out! Tranquilize Archer!”

“What just happened?”

“Oh my god!”

“Shoot him already!”

Jericho was lifted from the floor and carried from the room. Archer’s howls echoed in his ears, taking up all of his thoughts. Those eyes, that whine, _Archer_ …

Walter and Hubert’s faces floated in his vision. Jonesy was carrying him, talking but the words were in slow-mo, incomprehensible. They made his head hurt.

“..nnection wa…”

“…ertain about tha…”

“…bsolu…”

Jericho closed his eyes and blessedly passed out. The quiet was a welcome change from all the noise.


	2. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I was swamped with work and school and chores. Then summer got here and spring cleaning ate up my time. I'm trying to get back more in order to write and update more often. Hopefully it works.
> 
> This one's a bit short, so sorry. Masturbation warning here for poor little Jericho!

“…icho…”

…

“…Jericho…”

…

“Jericho!”

The blonde jolted to awareness, blue eyes wide in shock. He bolted upright in bed, yelping when he nearly collided with Jonesy’s nose. The other man managed to draw back quickly enough to avoid the blow, thankfully.

Jericho’s eyes darted around the room. A common infirmary, from the looks of it. He was relieved to find he was still fully dressed in his own clothes. Taking deep breaths to calm down, he looked to his supervisor apologetically.

“Are you okay?” Jonesy asked.

“I think so,” Jericho nodded, rubbing his forehead.

“What do you remember?”

“I was…in the room…with Archer,” Jericho recalled, struggling to pull scattered memories together. “He was at the glass, sniffing me…and my chest started hurting. Like somebody was crushing my heart…or something. I can’t remember anything after that.”

“You fainted,” Jonesy explained. “We pulled you out of the room.”

“Archer?” Jericho asked.

“Tranquilized,” Jonesy replied. “He attacked the glass the instant you fell. He’s back with his pack now, safe and sound.”

Something about that made Jericho relax. It was good to know that the Alpha was okay.

“If you think you can walk, come with me. There are some things you should know about your…situation,” Jonesy said, rising from his chair.

Jericho shifted until his legs dangled off of the bed. Testing his balance, he stood and moved from foot to foot. No nausea or dizziness hit him. He was clear to move about again. Jonesy prompted him to follow and they left the infirmary behind them.

It wasn’t until they got into the elevator that Jonesy spoke again.

“You asked me, before you went into the room with Archer, what I meant by destined,” the brunette Omega recalled. “It’s a term we use around here for certain individuals that can…bond, per say…with infected pack members.”

“That’s possible?” Jericho asked, intrigued.

“We don’t know the mechanics behind it but each infected pack member has certain traits they look for in a destined. Think of it like searching for a mate, only this runs…deeper,” Jonesy tried to explain. “I have to assume that, based on a comparison between you and Archer’s last destined, that is why Hubert had you put in right away. You matched the factors that Archer typically looks for in a destined.”

“Wait! You mean…Archer and I…?”

“Bonded? Yes, that was likely why you fainted,” Jonesy nodded. “Again, we don’t know the mechanics behind it but it only happens in very specific cases. You’re the fifty-eighth person we’ve tested with Archer since his last destined died.”

“What does any of this even mean? Am I, like, some kind of mate now?” Jericho asked, not sure how to process what Jonesy was telling him.

“In essence, yes. Though we highly doubt anything will come of it. We never allowed destined that close to the infected. There’s too high of a risk of infection due to the mating process and then all of our data is moot because of the infected’s territorial behavior and the destined succumbing to the F virus.

Basically, you’re the culmination of all the physical traits that Archer looks for in the perfect mate. He’ll be more inclined to respond positively to tests and procedures if you’re present. You’re effectively our best method of getting Archer to cooperate with us, which is good because Archer is infamous for his defiant behavior toward us.”

“You mean…I get to observe Archer?” Jericho asked, giddy and afraid all at once.

Jonesy gave a small smile as the elevator stopped. “Yes, Jericho. As his destined, you have direct access to anything we have on file about Archer and have observational rights in anything done to Archer within Eden. You probably have the most observational freedom of any of our staff since it’s Archer. Just don’t let it go to your head, okay? You’re still new and we still need to play it safe.”

Jericho nodded, fireworks going off in his head. “Got it.” He practically breathed the word.

They were back in that hall again, leading to the containment chamber. Only they broke off halfway, going down the hall Walter had before the incident. Labs sprawled around them, workers bustling about, computers scanning data, TV monitors showing different angles of Pack Fifteen’s enclosure. Jonesy led him to a large steel door off to the side of the main lab, a plaque above it declaring the room’s purpose.

**Observation and Viewing**

“You usually find these up on the ground floor,” Jonesy said, opening the door with a keycard scan. “This one is specifically placed within the pack’s main resting area. We have another smaller viewing window into the main den but that goes unused unless we’re hunting for a member in particular.”

The room was large but relatively empty. There were a few chairs and a long bench against the back wall, but nothing else. No computer, no camera feed, nothing else. Just a few seats and the wall in front of them. Just like in containment, it was thick bulletproof glass. There were smudges and smears on it from curious hands and mouths and who knows what else in the enclosure. Jericho tried not to think about it much.

The blonde was too focused on what he could see beyond the glass. Or, more precisely, _who_ he could see.

Pack fifteen was spread out in front of him in an open rocky area. Most were lounging and resting, some sleeping in the dapples of sunlight that came in through the glass ceiling high above them. Naturally, they were all naked, men and women alike. There wasn’t a shred of cloth on any of them. Jericho’s face reddened at that. He tried not to stare.

“Infected revert to animal-like tendencies. Nudity is natural to them,” Jonesy said. “Try not to be too embarrassed or skittish because of it. You won’t be seeing anything but bare skin from them. Getting them to wear clothes is like giving a particularly volatile cat a bath—it won’t happen anytime soon.”

“Where’s Archer?”

“Up there,” Jonesy replied.

Jericho looked up, trying to spot the Alpha. It wasn’t difficult. There was only one person not on the level ground before them. Perched atop a formation of rock that formed a cave, watching over the rest, was Archer. He was crouched atop the cave, stormy gray eyes scanning to area. He didn’t look injured at all. Jericho was relieved.

His heart froze when those eyes landed on him. Archer was instantly alert, rising onto his hands and feet. His knees were bent and he shifted, walking awkwardly on all fours. He bounded down the slope and approached the glass, attracting his packmates’ attention. The whole pack was watching, staring.

Jericho couldn’t breathe. His chest constricted, his throat closed. Archer was at the glass now, smoothly rising onto two legs like a normal person would. Large hands rested on the glass and the Alpha leaned in until his nose was crushed against it, nostrils flaring, trying to detect a scent.

“Jericho, breathe,” Jonesy instructed.

 _I can’t._ His mouth was open but the words refused to come out. His lungs burned.

“Jericho, breathe! You have to breathe!” Jonesy hissed, glaring at him.

Somehow, Jericho slowly dragged air in. His chest loosened finally, his throat opening. He slumped to his knees on the floor, gasping for air.

“Jericho, are you—”

Jonesy’s hand barely touched Jericho’s shoulder when the glass shuddered. Jonesy jumped, moving away.

After his lungs had been sufficiently filled and proved to work again, the blonde lifted his head to see Archer right there. Large hands mirrored Jericho’s own smaller ones. Jericho wanted to move away…but Archer wasn’t threatening. His teeth weren’t bared, he didn’t look mad. He looked…concerned.

Jonesy cursed behind him. “Jesus, he scared me. If it weren’t for the glass, I’ve got no doubt that he’d have killed me just then.”

“Why?”

“For touching you, I guess,” Jonesy suspected, reaching out to touch Jericho again.

Archer snarled the instant the man’s fingers touched Jericho’s shirt. The Alpha reared back, lips peeling back to show teeth. Large hands drew away before fisting. Then Archer brought those fists down on the glass, making it shudder weakly. His nose was against the glass again, brows furrowed, nose crushed, the glass fogging from ragged breaths.

“It seems he’s not the only one angry,” Jonesy noted.

The whole pack was up, most on their strange four-legged stance but a few stood up. Teeth were bared, a few snarled, some stamped. A few drew close to the glass but did not touch it or get close to Archer.

“Archer _is_ the pack leader. If he’s upset, it’s no shock that the rest would get upset too,” Jonesy reasoned, stepping away from Jericho.

The pack settled again now that the supposed threat had withdrawn. They went back to lounging and napping. A few crested the cave and vanished from sight. Jericho found himself curiously wondering where they were going.

“Lunch,” Jonesy provided. “Dickens is at the feeder.”

He indicated a heavy mechanical structure mounted high up on the far wall of the enclosure. It was too high up for any of the pack to reach, even from the cave top. A man was there, wearing neon orange clothes. A huge trough was on the structure. With the pull of a lever, the trough tipped one-hundred-eighty degrees and dumped out food—meat mostly but Jericho could see some vegetables and fruit in there. The entire pack flocked to it.

Except for Archer. He was whining, pawing at the glass, eyes on Jericho.

“Let’s go. He won’t eat if you’re in here,” Jonesy instructed, pulling the smaller Omega to his feet despite the snarl that Archer emitted.

Jericho felt his heart squeeze. Archer moved along the glass until he reached the end, whining, eyes pleading. The Omega felt the desire to join him, pass through the glass and go eat. To be his.

…

_Wait, what?_

Jericho paused, cheeks red. Be Archer’s? Where did _that_ come from? Did he seriously just think that?

Jonesy pushed him from the room and closed the door behind them. The pressure on Jericho’s heart lessened instantly once he was away from that stormy gray gaze. Breathing was much easier. His head cleared from a fog that Jericho hadn’t realized was there.

“Are you okay?”

Jericho jumped at the question, startled. He stared at Jonesy, speechless, before nodding weakly.

“If you feel anything strange, tell me,” his supervisor ordered. “Being a destined can be a sticky business. You need to be careful. Destined almost always feel compelled to be submissive to their Alpha mate’s desires. You have to remember that he’s infected, not in his right mind. You are not infected. Let’s keep it that way.”

Jericho nodded numbly.

“Alphas were in charge in the past. Now it’s our turn,” Jonesy reminded. “Don’t let this get to your head. You’ll be fine.”

Then why did Jericho feel anything _but_ fine?

.o.o.o.o.

Sleep was difficult to attain that night. Jericho couldn’t get those stormy gray eyes, that whine, out of his head. He tossed and turned but nothing worked. Sleep simply wouldn’t come.

That feeling kept welling up. The one from the observation room. That sense of belonging, of being possessed by someone mightier than him. It was intoxicating. He craved it. Wanted it. Needed it. Like some kind of twisted drug.

Was this what bonding with an Alpha was like in the past, before the F virus?

Warmth pooled below his navel, hot and needy. Jericho blushed before shoving a hand down his boxers, wrapping it around himself. He was already so hard and all he’d done was picture those eyes, recall that whine.

This was insane.

This was _wrong_.

Yet it felt so good. He imagined hands far larger than his own, rougher, calloused from years running on all fours, touching him. Rubbing him. Stroking him. Caressing parts that Jericho had never allowed another to touch.

When you were aiming to graduate among the best of the best in school, you had no time for sex or romance.

The heat grew, along with pressure. He was so hard, so hot. He reached back with his other hand, fingers driving into his puckered anus. He imagined a larger frame, bigger and stronger and impossibly dominant, taking him. The mount, the harsh thrusts, the pleasure. He imagined teeth sinking into him, marking him. Nails leaving ragged welts across his skin. A warm tongue tracing the scars on his neck and cheek.

It was too much, too real. Jericho arched, crying out as hot semen spilled over his hand and stomach, wetting his sheets. Then he collapsed, body cooling, sated.

He slept dreamlessly after that. It was a welcome relief.


End file.
